Night of Knights
by Lord Maedhros
Summary: BatmanGargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strenghs become liabilities when one loses control. . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting. My first fanfic, please R&R! Formating issues pending, bear with me please.
1. Happy Cadavers

Title: Night of Knights (1/?)   
  
Author: Lord Maedhros  
  
Rating: R (just to be safe)  
  
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover  
  
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control. . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.  
  
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated  
  
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.   
  
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular  
  
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.   
  
iitalicsi/ = thoughts  
  
Chapter 1: Happy Cadavers  
  
It was quiet down near the dockside warehouses of Manhattan at night. Sounds of the city drifted in, the honking of horns and the collective thrumming of car engines. Distantly, the wail of a police siren cut through the night air. The lights from the rest of the city shone between the warehouses and boatyards, providing enough light to see by but also creating an inky labyrinth of deep, black shadows. A few of the docks nearby were active, even in the small hours of the morning, but for the most part the area was deserted for the night. The persistent smell of fish and salt lingered in the air, and a radio could be heard, playing static-laden country music for the workmen on the docks.   
  
Around the particular warehouse that held the interest of two police officers tonight, however, there had been no activity whatsoever.   
  
"How long are we going to sit here?" An exhausted Elisa Maza asked her partner.   
  
"Until something happens," he replied, glancing at his watch.   
  
"It's been four hours, Matt," she pointed out. "Maybe someone was informed about your informant . . ."  
  
"Don't even joke about that."  
  
"Sorry."   
  
Having finished arguing, Elisa and Matt settled back in to wait, and watch. They had sat thus, in silence, for a further fifteen minutes, when the police band radio crackled to life.   
  
"All available units please respond . . . disturbance at Nineteenth and Washington streets . . . Shots fired, all officers proceed with extreme caution."  
  
Elisa and Matt looked at each other for a second, and then Elisa scrambled to pick up the radio.   
  
"Detectives Maza and Bluestone responding, en route. ETA ten minutes, over." She turned on the ignition, and drove towards the address specified by the call. Once clear of the docks, she ignited the siren and lights of the stakeout car, and they raced off into the city.   
  
* * * * *  
  
When Elisa and Matt reached the scene, the perpetrators were already gone. Fire fighters were just arriving, dealing with a major blaze belching out of a storefront on the street corner. The two got out of the car and checked on the officers involved in the shooting.   
  
"What happened?" Elisa called, flashing her badge.  
  
"We got a call saying someone tripped a silent alarm at that store," one of the uniformed officers answered her. "Crazy shit. When we got here, there were two cars outside, blasting the place with automatic weapons. We pulled up, gave them a warning to stand down, and they started firing on us, too. Last thing they did was to fire bomb the whole place, then they took off. We're all okay, but the car is a little worse for the wear. Crazy shit." The officer blew out a deep breath, shaking his head slightly.   
  
'Worse for the wear' was an understatement. The front tires on both of the squad cars involved were shredded, every metal surface visible from the front of the car was perforated by bullet holes, and the windows and windshields had all but disintegrated under the hail of gunfire.   
  
It was amazing that none of the officers had been hit.   
  
With nothing to do there but sit and guard the scene, Elisa and Matt got back in their car, and waited for the firefighters to finish their job.   
  
What seemed like hours later, the fire was finally dead, and Matt and Elisa were told that they were clear to investigate the scene. iIt's about fucking time,i/ she thought. Elisa sighed, rubbed her eyes, and got out of the car. Matt was called over to talk to a lieutenant who had just arrived, and Elisa continued without him. Choking down the last mouthful of her cold coffee, she walked over to the crime scene, and into the store.   
  
The distinctly unpleasant scent of smoke and ash filled the store, tainted further by a strange, lingering chemical smell. The room was dimly lit, but as her eyes adjusted Elisa began to see the items strewn about the room. A broken set of shelves, various common and random items, and the door to one of the refrigerators at the back of the convenience store lay on the floor. And there were several other objects, too, but Elisa could not quite make out what they were. She pulled her flashlight for a closer look.   
  
The oddly shaped objects, seven in all, were bodies.   
  
Two of the men had fallen, apparently to automatic weapons fire, with their hands firmly locked around each other's throats. Across the room, another man was propped against the wall, on his knees, with his pants down and his ass in the air. He looked as if he had died while mooning his shooter. The other four were in similarly strange positions. Horrified, but also morbidly fascinated, Elisa checked the men more closely. Most of the men's features had been burned beyond recognition in the fire, and she found no tangible clues there until she circled back to the front of the store, to the first two men she had seen upon entering. These two had apparently been furthest from the flames, and both faces were intact. Elisa recoiled involuntarily at what she saw.   
  
iMy God, they're smilingi/.   
  
Hideous, maniacal grins were fixed to their pale, dead faces. Eyes wide, mouths agape, and cheeks pulled back into a macabre vision of two men halted in the seemingly… joyful process of slaughtering one another.   
  
Elisa ran from the room, fighting the urge to vomit. She pushed past a confused-looking Matt, and headed for the alleyway, keeping the scene as clear as possible for the forensics team.   
  
Elisa stood back up, then immediately dropped her head between her knees again, facing the small, lumpy puddle that had once been her dinner. iGreat,i/ she thought. iThat's the last time I eat lo mien for a while.i/ She tried again, more slowly this time, and was able to stand upright. She breathed deeply, trying to purge the last traces of her nausea. At that moment, a huge, dark figure descended from the roof above.   
  
Goliath landed just outside the small pool of light cast by the alley's only street lamp. He touched down lightly, exercising a smooth grace that belied his great size. Goliath was enormous, well over seven feet in height, with large muscles, a tail, and clawed hands and feet. He settled his large, leathery wings about his broad shoulders, and addressed the only human he fully trusted.   
  
"What happened in there?" he asked Elisa, concern showing in his deep voice.   
  
"I'm all right, Goliath, really," she replied, still coughing. "I just wasn't prepared for what I saw a few minutes ago." She told him, briefly, what she knew about the incident, finishing with the descriptions of the two men's faces.   
  
Goliath said nothing. He merely grunted, shaking his head in resignation.   
  
Elisa continued. "Look, I'll make some copies of the crime scene photos for you, and then I think I'll see what I can dig up out of the police files. I feel like I've heard of this before, but not here . . . I just hope I'm wrong about who the perpetrator might be here." she finished, not wanting to panic Goliath unnecessarily.   
  
"Elisa," Goliath began, extending a huge, gray-purple hand into the light. "We will help you find the one responsible for this. This kind of carnage has no place here."   
  
"I know you will. And you're right; this shouldn't be allowed to happen anywhere. But it does."   
  
He let out a deep, rumbling sigh. "I know."  
  
Elisa looked at her watch. "You only have a little under an hour before dawn. I'll tell you more tomorrow night."   
  
"Very well," he said. "Come to the Clock Tower at dusk, and let me know what you find."  
  
"I will," she promised. They embraced briefly, Goliath's wings enveloping Elisa's comparatively small body completely. The two parted, and Elisa glanced towards the street. "I've got to get back out there."   
  
"See you tomorrow night, then," he said, and mounted the nearest building, climbing straight up the brownstone with his razor- sharp claws. Elisa still remembered the first time she had seen him do that. She had been clinging to his shoulders for dear life, watching his jackhammer fingers driving straight into solid stone. It had since never failed to impress her. Goliath disappeared over the lip of the roof. A moment later, a deep whooshing sound signaled his departure.   
  
Elisa stood still for a few seconds, then turned and walked back to the scene.   
  
Elisa caught a few hours of sleep that morning, and then she was back at the police station, searching the database for anything that fit the profile of what she had seen the previous night. The database took only a very short time to cough up a match to the very distinctive style of the killer in this case. Fearing the result, but as always more curious than anything, she opened the page and began to look through it.   
  
For the second time in the same day, Elisa looked at that face, staring up at her. Pale, white skin, wavy green hair, and red, painted lips accentuated the expression on the mug shot. It was the same as on the two dead men she had seen the night before. Elisa set her jaw firmly, and began to read the long criminal record and file on the man known only as the Joker.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Just before dusk, Elisa stood alone on the roof of the Clock Tower, holding a copy of the files she had downloaded earlier. Around her were a ring of fearsome statues, winged gargoyles made of cold, dark stone, perched on the edges of the roof. This high above the city, silence reined. Only a few stray sounds from the streets below ever wound their way up here.   
  
Then night fell completely. All around, the statues began to crack open, warm flesh showing through the thin lines in their outer shells. Flakes of stone fell away, and the Gargoyles awoke into the night with a deafening roar, shedding their daytime outer casing in an explosion of stone chips and debris.   
  
Elisa spoke first, startling Lexington, who was closest. Small, bald and green skinned; Lexington had large, round eyes to match his endearing curiosity. He greeted her cheerfully, but couldn't hide the nervousness she had caused in him.   
  
"H-hi, Elisa," he said, eliciting quiet laughter from his clan mates. The other Gargoyles greeted her in turn, finishing with Goliath, who embraced her warmly. Brooklyn, Broadway, and Lexington left the rooftop to stretch their wings, while Goliath, Hudson, and Elisa went inside the tower. Bronx, less mobile than the others due to his lack of wings, followed them in and settled down, curling up at Elisa's feet.   
  
Elisa pulled out the files she had printed during the day. The two Gargoyles looked them over, with growing concern showing on both their faces. Elisa couldn't help but notice that Hudson's ability to read was improving steadily, and she told him so. He smiled briefly at the compliment, but quickly grew serious again as he continued to read about the Joker's extensive criminal record.   
  
"You're chasin' a madman, lass," Hudson commented, dropping the papers on the small table.   
  
"Do you think he's still in New York?" Goliath asked. Before she could answer, he continued. "Elisa, we are this city's guardians. We need to do something about this 'Joker' if he's still at large here."  
  
"I agree," Hudson confirmed. "We canna have this madman runnin' free in our city, murderin' innocent people."   
  
"That reminds me," Elisa put in. "I checked out the I.D. on the victims of last night's attack, and the Joker's targets were hardly innocent. Turns out they were mob. Gotham mob, who got booted out of their territory in a gang war a while back. They tried to move in here a couple months ago," she sighed, ". But it looks like this 'Joker' character tracked them here somehow. Anyway, it could be a sign that he's not staying. . ."   
  
"Pity, that," Hudson muttered.   
  
". . . But I'd still like to know what he's doing. Follow my logic here. It would be relatively easy for a supposed 'master criminal' like the Joker to lie low if he wanted to. That means that his not being found in New York doesn't tell us anything. On the other hand, if he was spotted, say back in Gotham . . ."  
  
". . . We'd know he was gone," Goliath finished for her.  
  
"Exactly," Elisa responded with determination. "I've got some vacation time coming in a few days, so I was thinking I could take a little trip up to Gotham, ask a few questions in the right places . . ."  
  
"bNob/, Elisa," Goliath roared, eyes on the verge of glowing their signature white. "You've seen for yourself what he's capable of. Don't go looking for him, not on his own ground."  
  
"Goliath, as much as I appreciate the thought, I can handle myself," Elisa snapped back. As sweet as it was of Goliath to be so concerned over Elisa's safety, it could idefinitelyi/ be annoying at times. "There's something else I haven't told you yet," she said bitterly. "Someone I knew was among the victims. He was a rookie officer, working undercover as the shopkeeper. He was supposed to be one of the gang's contacts, linking their drug money to legitimate business. When the place was attacked, he . . ." Elisa left off the end of the last statement.   
  
"Elisa, please," it was Hudson. "We all know ye can fend for yourself, lass, but he's right. This madman is dangerous. If nothing else, what he did last night proves that. It'd be folly to go seekin' him out on your own."   
  
"That's why I'm not seeking him out," she argued. "I'm just going into the city, asking some questions to make sure he's left New York. The chief and my squad captain have already been in contact with Gotham's police commissioner. He's a good cop, from what I hear, and a good leader. The GCPD are more than capable, and they can deal with him from there,"   
  
"I do not like this," Goliath grumbled. "If Gotham's police are so good, why not let them track him down?"   
  
"Because we have to know if he's really gone or not," she countered. "They are good, but he's been evading them consistently, evading everyone, for a long time. I'll be there and back by this time next week. Nothing's going to happen."  
  
"Whenever you say that, my tail starts to twitch," Goliath said, sighing heavily. "Very well. But keep in contact with us while you're gone."  
  
"I will. Don't worry," she said, laughing lightly.  
  
"There goes that tail again, lad," Hudson chuckled. "Have a good trip, Elisa. God speed."   
  
"See you both later. I'm on duty in twenty minutes." They said their farewells, and Elisa descended the tower, heading for the station.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Elisa stepped off the train at about ten that Saturday, into Gotham City. Right away, she saw the differences between this city and her own.   
  
Gotham was an old city. New York was even older, but most of the buildings in her city were much newer, more modern in appearance. These were, well, gothic in style, for lack of a better word. The entire city gave the impression of darkness, even in broad daylight, with lots of sharp, jagged peaks, numerous pedestrian causeways between buildings, and a virtual army of grotesques and gargoyles.   
  
She smiled to herself. iExcept these will still be stone come nightfalli/.   
  
Elisa merged with the crowd, found a cab, and told the driver to take her to a relatively inexpensive hotel. The cab took off, into the city.   
  
As Elisa expected, everyone with even a minor link to Gotham's underworld knew whom 'the clown' referred to. Most of the men she talked to tried to warn her away from him. The Joker was a legend here. Based on what she was hearing, he was a nightmare to deal with, but he could pull off virtually anything. He had escaped from Arkham Asylum too many times to count, and it was rumored that no prison in the world could hold him indefinitely. He was already sentenced to serve the next few thousand years incarcerated in Arkham, for everything from petty larceny and minor property damage to gang running and mass murder.   
  
And the list was still growing . . .  
  
By the end of her third day in Gotham, Elisa was getting nowhere searching for someone to talk about the Joker's whereabouts. She'd heard of several 'little places' on street corners where well meaning men had offered to take her, but none of that was very useful. And they all had stories. 'Mister J' pulled this off, 'that smiling bastard' killed such and such, and 'the Clown Prince of Crime' was untouchable. Yadda yadda yadda. Every potentially shady character in the city was too scared of him to say much of anything. Elisa, not particularly inclined to give up on anything, decided to pick up her search again the following day, after she had gotten some sleep. Hungry and tired, she got on the subway train, and headed back to the hotel.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Elisa opened the door to her hotel room, and flipped on the light. She showered, changed, and shuffled back into the room, intending to take another look at the street atlas of Gotham and determine what section of the city she had yet to cover. The presence of the ghoulish clown, grinning madly at her from the center of the room, did not even register as unusual until he was right in front of her.   
  
"Hello there!" Joker beamed at her, extending his hand for Elisa to shake. "How nice to finally meet you!" He grabbed her hand to shake it, and Elisa woke up more completely as she felt a jolt of electricity shoot up her right arm, accompanied by a loud buzzing noise. Joker's mannerisms made her imagine she could hear carnival music, although she knew it was just her imagination. "Whoops! Sorry about that," he continued, removing the buzzer ring and dropping it into his pocket without missing a beat. He flopped on the couch, completely at ease. "So, my sweet, what is it that brings you to lovely Gotham? Furthermore, why have you suddenly taken such an interest in little old me?"  
  
"I-I, ah, umm, wh- what are you. . What do you mean?" she stammered.   
  
"Oh, dear, we've picked up a bit of a st-stu-st-stutter, have we? But to your question, what I mean, miss, is that you've been sniffing around in this happy little burg for three days now, asking anyone and everyone you can find about where my latest little hidey hole might be. I don't always appreciate that, you know. Very rude. Ever hear of a simple phone call? Fax? Telegram? Honestly, no common courtesies at all anymore . . ."   
  
Elisa's police training began to overpower her initial shock. Seeing no one else in the room, she pulled out her badge and gun. "Okay, Joker. You're under arrest for arson and the murders of seven men in New York, five days ago. You have the right to remain . . . "   
  
Joker leaped to his feet, vaulting over the back of the couch. "What, do you mean to say someone's actually iinvestigatingi/ those poor saps? How exciting! I see now. Wait a tick, did you say seven? I could have sworn there were at least eight, what with that not-so-well-undercover officer you had there . . . oh, well, who can remember? I never was very good with faces . . . no, no, faces I can do . . ." Joker paused, thinking and smiling to himself.   
  
"Hands behind your back, clown," Elisa snapped at him, in no mood to play games. "Up against the wall, NOW."  
  
"Oh, o-of course, officer," he responded meekly, and then to her surprise, he did exactly as he was told.   
  
Elisa pulled her handcuffs, and walked carefully towards him, gun extended. iHe's not stupid,i/ she told herself. iHe knows I can still shoot him if he tries anythingi/. She just touched his wrist with the first cuff . . .  
  
The Joker exploded out at her, launching himself away from the wall and spinning, getting behind Elisa and grabbing her gun arm. He bit her, hard, on the forearm, and used her surprise to wrench the gun away from her. Joker continued his spin, knocking Elisa to the ground, and danced his way across the room, singing and laughing. He stopped on a dime, turned, and pointed the gun at Elisa.   
  
"Now iI'lli/ be the cop, and iyoui/ get to be the crazy evil mass murderer! I like this game!" Joker laughed hysterically. He jumped at her, waving the gun over his head. Elisa, sure he intended to kill her, punched him hard in the face and ran for the door.   
  
She was met in the hall by four large men, all armed with guns. A chloroform soaked cloth went over her mouth and nose, and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.   
  
tbc. . . 


	2. In Too Deep

Title: Night of Knights (2/?)   
  
Author: Lord Maedhros  
  
Rating: R (just to be safe)  
  
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover  
  
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control. . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.  
  
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated  
  
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.   
  
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular  
  
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.   
  
* * = thoughts  
  
Chapter 2: In Too Deep  
  
*He* was on the loose again. The Joker had escaped from Arkham Asylum for the thousandth time, and he had to be stopped. It was as simple as that.   
  
That's what Tim's boss had been telling him every night, for the past two weeks. Well, sort of his boss. Tim thought of him as a superior, but the older man considered him to be more of a partner than a subordinate.   
  
Tim Drake's night job entailed patrolling Gotham's streets as Robin, the Boy Wonder, and his boss was none other than the legendary Batman.   
  
Robin fired his grapnel, felt the satisfying reverberation through his gloved hand as the strong monofilament line caught on the corner of a nearby building. He calculated the angle in his head, and then jumped.   
  
Tim plummeted, in free fall for a fraction of a second, then the line went taut and he began swinging through the night sky. He loved that feeling; the rush of air and illusion of weightlessness that came only with flight. His momentum began to die just as he reached his destination, the roof of the Gotham police station. He swooped up, over the lip of the roof, and landed easily on the tarred surface, one hand still on the line. Commissioner Gordon was waiting, the Bat-signal burning bright behind him.   
  
"You're alone? Where's Batman?" the commissioner asked him upon landing. Gordon seemed agitated, pacing back and forth on the roof.   
  
"Evening, Commissioner," Robin greeted him. The aging police commissioner of Gotham City had been allied with the Batman for far longer than Tim had, even longer than Robin had. Tim had a lot of respect for Gordon, but he did not like being thought of as a second string sidekick.   
  
"Batman's still out searching the city. I was with him when we saw the signal, so he sent me here and kept going," he answered. "With all due respect, I'm not second best, Commissioner. He wouldn't have sent me if he didn't think I could handle whatever it is."  
  
"I suppose you're right. It's not crucial that Batman hear this from me," Gordon said. "But it is crucial that he hear it. This problem with the Joker has escalated," Gordon sighed wearily. "It's become a hostage situation. He and his gang abducted an off duty police officer in her hotel room last night." Gordon handed Robin a file. "Detective Elisa Maza, NYPD. No word yet on what the Joker wants. She was in Gotham to take some vacation time," he continued. "Some vacation. Assuming she's still alive, your mentor might want to hear about it."  
  
"Thanks, Commissioner. I'll make sure he gets the message," Robin said, turning to go. He tucked the file into his boot, picked up his line off the roof, and took a running leap, straight over the edge and into open air. Robin headed for the clock tower of Gotham, to get in touch with Barbara. Better known as Oracle, she was technical support for the Bat-crew, with connections to virtually every police force and costumed hero in the world. Babs could contact Dick in Bludhaven, and Tim thought it would be best to call up as much muscle as they could get for this one. Nightwing was a useful guy to have around where the Joker was involved.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Back in New York, Goliath paced the roof of the clock tower occupied by the Manhattan Clan's Gargoyles, his tail twitching of it own accord with nervous energy. The stone exterior of the tower bore deep claw impressions, mute witness to the warrior's frustration. He had put Lexington on monitor duty, stationing the tiny Gargoyle in the main room of the tower, waiting for a communication of any kind from Elisa.   
  
"Anything yet?" he called inside.   
  
"Nothing," Lex replied. He understood how Goliath felt. Lexington was worried about Elisa too, but that didn't make Goliath's nervousness any easier to take. Elisa had been gone for a week now, out of communication for four days. The small Gargoyle had been firmly stationed inside the tower for three, since he was the only one who understood how to use the e-mail program on the computer. Small flakes of stone littered the room, as Lexington's evening awakenings had been taking place there for those past three nights. Bronx, loyal to a fault, had stayed in with him virtually the whole time. The stone chips from the Gargoyle's watchbeast added to the mess in the room, but Lex was grateful for the company.   
  
"How long has it been?" Goliath's voice came again.   
  
"Four days," he replied.   
  
"That settles it," Goliath finally said. He was standing in the doorway. "Can that . . . thing make a map of the streets for me?"   
  
"Well, sure, but you know the city as well as the rest of us . . ."  
  
"Not this city, Lex," Goliath said. "I'm going to Gotham."   
  
"Shouldn't we go with you?" The smaller Gargoyle asked him. "You might need some support."  
  
"Thank you, friend, but someone must stay here." Goliath replied. "New York still has it's own problems."   
  
Lex did as he was bid, and Goliath took off alone, headed north. The massive Gargoyle had made up his mind. He would find Elisa, and take down whoever had hurt her in the most painful manner possible. His eyes flashed white at the thought, and he bared his teeth to the cold wind. He landed as quietly as possible atop an express passenger train bound for Gotham, caped his massive wings about his shoulders, and settled in for the ride.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Elisa awoke slowly, conscious thought reluctant to return to her. She could see nothing, but whether her eyes were still closed, or possibly the room was just very dark, she could not yet tell. There was an oppressive silence, the kind of utter lack of sound that simply did not exist in a city the size of Gotham. She was sitting up in a chair, to which she was securely bound hands, feet, and torso. Her jacket, shoes, and gun belt were gone, and her clothes felt slightly out of place, sitting awkwardly on her body. It was cold in the room, especially since all she had on was her jeans and her short-sleeved shirt. Elisa could taste the chloroform in her mouth, and the burning in her nostrils indicated other chemicals, as well. She could also feel a stinging pain in her right forearm, three inches up from the wrist.   
  
*He bit me!* She thought. *That lunatic bit me!*   
  
Regaining herself little by little, Elisa analyzed her situation, putting together what had happened to her. She began to list events, quietly muttering each one to herself.  
  
"I fought the Joker," she began. "I ran, met his gang, and they kidnapped me with chloroform. I'm tied up, and my weapons are gone. I . . ." Elisa thought about her clothes. "I was stripped naked, searched, and then dressed again, all my weapons removed," she finished. With a concentrated effort, Elisa lifted her head, and opened her eyes.   
  
The room was not completely dark, as Elisa had thought at first. Dim, yes, but those were hardly the same thing. She scanned the room, apparently just the basement to an old building. Her eyes rested on a spot of white standing out against the dark background. Still dazed, it took Elisa a moment to realize what it was.   
  
Joker just smiled, looking at Elisa. He was perfectly still, not moving at all, and it seemed like he must have been standing like that for at least the past several minutes. Elisa began to wonder if he wasn't just some hideous mannequin, when he burst out talking.   
  
"Wakey-wakey, my pretty-pretty!" he beamed. "Lest you forget, let me fill you in. We were playing 'Cops and Murderers'. You lost. Do you know what that means?" In an instant, Joker's smile went from playful and innocent to hard, cold, and evil. Elisa didn't speak.   
  
"I take it by your stunned silence that you do," he continued, nodding sagely and pursing his lips mockingly. "Oh well, then, no time like the present!" Out of nowhere, Joker produced a broad, seven-inch knife with a cruelly serrated back. "Sayonara, sweetheart!" he called out, and hurled the knife full force, straight at Elisa's chest.   
  
Elisa closed her eyes out of reflex, letting out a high, short scream as she saw Joker release the knife. In the fraction of a second that it took to reach her, a small circle of plywood sprung upright on its stand, shielding Elisa's abdomen. The wicked-looking blade lodged into the very top of the shield, stopping just short of skewering the detective. Elisa looked down, and gaped at the knife. It had penetrated the shield to the hilt, sticking there with the serrated back of the blade completely exposed. A few millimeters higher, and she doubted it would have stopped at all. As it was, a tiny rip in the fabric of her shirt, just below her breastbone, and the miniscule trickle of warm fluid staining it from beneath told Elisa everything she needed to know about how closely he had cut his little practical joke.   
  
Joker laughed hysterically for the next minute or so. He ran to the nearest wall, returning with tears in his eyes and several Polaroid shots of Elisa, mouth open in a terrified scream. He showed the pictures to Elisa, all from different angles, giggling helplessly and pointing to her face in each one. Elisa, still too stunned to speak, remained frozen. Joker slapped her hard on the back, sending the tip of the knife into her chest another half centimeter. She gasped audibly, eyes bugging out.   
  
"Oops! Here, let me get that," he said. He yanked the knife free, and kicked over the small wooden stand. He tossed the knife casually over his shoulder. By accident or design, it landed with a soft *thunk* in the edge of a table. "There," Joker said. "That's better, isn't it?"   
  
Elisa finally found her voice. "S-so you're not going to k-kill me?" she managed to stammer.   
  
Joker erupted into laughter again. "Wheee-ha-ha haaa!!" he exploded. "That's a good one! Hee hee! Silly! Of course I'm going to kill you!" Elisa's face went ashen. "Trouble is, I gotta make it good, you see. New York police detectives don't just come knocking on my door every day, you know. Shooting, stabbing, bludgeoning, they're all so . . .so *ordinary*. So mundane! Where's the drama? It's embarrassing, really. No imagination! No flair!" he paused, then continued his monologue, shaking his finger at Elisa and managing to sound like an old man ranting about 'the good old days'. "You know what they need to re-instate? Drawing and quartering. Stretching someone in four directions, and subsequently cutting them apart. The Church used to have all the neatest little gadgets and doo-dads." Elisa shuddered slightly, catching Joker's insinuation a moment before he said it, perking up as though the idea had just occurred to him. "Half a mo; maybe you could be the poster girl for that! Think of it, 'New York detective drawn and quartered: State of Texas to re-instate as method of execution.' Yes! It's got style! It's got panache! It's reality TV at it's BEST!!" Switching gears entirely, he straightened and addressed Elisa. "Sleep well, detective." Joker bowed courteously, then skipped from the room, laughing and singing to himself as he went.   
  
Elisa watched him go past her in stunned silence, heard the steel door clang shut behind him. Blinking furiously, she fought panic. It was a hard battle, and it took Elisa all of the next ten minutes just to stop shaking. In the end, she won, bringing her thoughts under control. Elisa scanned the room, looking for anything she could use to free herself.   
  
To say the room was sparsely furnished would have been an understatement. There was nothing there, just the bare cement walls, a few vertical girders acting as pillars, the chair she was tied to, and the small table in the corner . . . with the knife still stuck in it.   
  
The very blade that had nearly caused Elisa to wet herself with fear just minutes earlier now shone like a beacon of hope in the dim room. Encouraged now that she had a goal, Elisa began shifting her weight, inching closer to freedom.   
  
tbc . . . 


	3. Strangers in a Strange Land

Title: Night of Knights (3/?)   
  
Author: Lord Maedhros  
  
Rating: R (just to be safe)  
  
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover  
  
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control. . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.  
  
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated  
  
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.   
  
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular  
  
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.   
  
* * = thoughts  
  
Chapter 3: Strangers in a Strange Land   
  
Goliath alighted on a broad ledge, eighty stories above the streets of Gotham City. His massive jaw set in determination; he looked down at the activity below. *So like New York,* he thought. *And yet it is still so alien to me*. He growled to himself. *Where in the name of Oberon do I start?* Goliath was worried about Elisa, and frustrated at his lack of familiarity with the city. He had the presence of mind, however, to at least try to stay calm. Goliath knew he would probably never find Elisa by a random search of the city.   
  
Goliath paced the ledge, thinking and trying to calm his mind. The claws on his toes left deep puncture marks in the surface of the roof as he did so. If only he could find some way of tracking Elisa, he would feel better about his chances of success. Loose threads from clothing could come off on sharp branches, but they were far from any forest. Goliath thought of attempting to scent-track her, but considered that to be a last resort. His olfactory senses were keen, but he doubted they would be sharp enough for such a task. *But what else could I do?* He mused. *Humans don't leave footprints in the roads here*.   
  
With little else in the way of a viable option, Goliath decided that any chance was better than none. He checked the street map Lexington had provided him, on which was marked the hotel Elisa had been staying in. Memorizing the location relative to the building he was on, Goliath folded the paper carefully back into his belt. The powerful Gargoyle let out a deep, rumbling roar of frustration, spread his wings, and took off.   
  
As he'd feared, Goliath found that Elisa's room had been thoroughly searched by Gotham's police detectives. The Joker had taken her, then. The room was dark, and all the objects in the room had been left as they were, for the purpose of evidence preservation.   
  
*That means Elisa's clothing is still here*.  
  
Goliath found Elisa's suitcase. He leaned close, and inhaled deeply, saturating his nostrils with her scent. He tested his senses before leaving the room, unknowingly searching out her pattern of movement during her struggle with the Joker. He followed the trail to the door, but hesitated before opening it. Goliath was not accustomed to allowing humans to see him in such a place. However, he had to know which exit they used, and he had to keep Elisa's scent fresh in his nostrils. Once he lost the scent, he knew he would not be able to find it again.   
  
Goliath opened the door, and caught a new scent. Faint, but distinctively chemical, and strangely familiar. He tried to place the odor . . . and the answer hit him.  
  
*Chloroform*.   
  
Not that the name mattered, especially to a Gargoyle, but Elisa had taught him what it was, and what it was used for. With a much stronger scent to search for, and bolstered confidence, Goliath set off down the hall, following Elisa's scent.   
  
The chloroform scent trail went cold a block and a half away from the hotel. This in itself was frustrating, but he'd lost Elisa's scent at the end of the hall, and at least the stronger scent of the chloroform had given him a general direction in which to take his search.   
  
*Bronx would be useful here,* he thought, regretting his decision to refuse the support of his clan. He'd made the same mistake before, with nearly unspeakable results. As this thought crossed the warrior's mind, another building suffered under his stone-rending claws.   
  
The large Gargoyle climbed the building in front of him for a better view of the area. He used the roof as a launching point, spreading his wings and gliding low along the street. Goliath used his new position to scan the buildings as he passed, looking for clues. The street held little of any interest to most honest people, with just a few struggling businesses, some low-income housing, and several abandoned buildings, most of them unmarked except for the spray painted gang logos on them. He gained altitude, and was beginning to angle away when he heard the sounds of a struggle in one of the nearby alleyways. As agitated as he was, Goliath was still unwilling to let innocent people suffer. He dove back towards the street.   
  
A group of four young men were harassing a middle-aged shopkeeper, apparently just after he had closed his store. Two of the men had wooden bats, the third had a knife; and the fourth was armed with a gun. Under any normal circumstances, Goliath would have simply scared the street punks off, no physical contact required.   
  
Goliath's present state of mind left him in no condition to react normally.   
  
"Hey, geezer, c'mon! Just let us in for a few minutes, and we won't hurt you, 'kay? Please?" One of the four men said mockingly. He menaced the shopkeeper with his bat. The other three laughed, advancing on the older man.   
  
A low, inarticulate growl, louder and deeper than that of even the biggest dog, caused the four to stop in their tracks. The shopkeeper broke and ran; too terrified to wonder why his tormentors weren't pursuing him. The four young men turned, slowly, to see what had made the noise.   
  
Blank white eyes burned from the deepest part of the shadows, and the faint backdrop of light from outside the alleyway silhouetted Goliath's enormous frame. His sharp teeth were bared in a savage snarl, and his wings curved forward to fit in the narrow alleyway, slightly more visible than the rest of him. Goliath formed a truly terrifying image, one that would haunt the four men's nightmares for weeks to come. Panicked, the man with the gun fired, but his fear caused the bullet to go too high, missing over the right shoulder of the lunging Gargoyle.   
  
The shooter never got a second chance. Goliath's clawed hand shot out, grabbing the gun and crushing it in an instant, along with the hand that held it. The man screamed as the bones in his right hand were reduced to splinters, and Goliath let him go, throwing him forwards into one of his friends. The gang's leader dropped to the ground in pain, shrieking and clutching at his mangled hand, unable even to let go of the now useless gun. The second attacker took a wild swing at Goliath's head with a baseball bat. The Gargoyle caught it easily in his right hand, splintering the weapon with his claws. Goliath snarled at him, roaring and spitting like a fighting-mad bear. He pulled the bat to his left and downwards across his body, then returned it upwards in a powerful backhanded blow that lifted the young man clear off his feet, sending him into the brick wall of the building. He did not get up. Without waiting for the knife-wielder to attack him, Goliath stepped forward, bringing his left hand around and smashing the man's face with one solid blow from his sledgehammer fist. The fourth member of the defeated team chose discretion over valor, dropping his bat and taking off down the alleyway at full speed. He skidded around a corner, and disappeared from view.   
  
Goliath let him go. The bare brick walls, a small door with a light, and large piles of trash were all that adorned the small space. The apparent leader of the small group was now motionless on the ground, propped up on one elbow and bent over his injured hand. Cautiously, Goliath approached with the intent of checking the man's vital signs. As the warrior neared the object of his investigation, a subtle whispering from the most primal part of his mind made him stop.   
  
The man with the mangled hand was laughing.   
  
Goliath backed away involuntarily. The man was giggling to himself, almost inaudibly, as though Goliath's abuse of his hand was the butt of some twisted, private joke. He started to stand; not appearing to feel the pain that such a wound should have been causing him. Suspicious, Goliath made a show of leaving; all the while keeping his senses trained on the odd little man. He scaled the side of the building with ease, reached the roof, and looked down into the alleyway again. The man was moving now, shuffling deeper into the darkness of the alley, laughing in low tones and continually glancing at his useless hand. The laugh was hollow, detached, as though the man was severely inebriated of alcohol and watching something amusing on television. Goliath followed him, sticking to the shadows. The man staggered on, for almost the length of the block, before turning to the back door of a decrepit old joke and novelty shop, long since out of business and closed down. He entered, disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond. A faint_click_, followed by the thumping noise of a soft object striking the ground reached the Gargoyle's sensitive ears. Goliath doubted that the noises would have been audible to a human at all. He clung tightly to the shadows, certain now that the door was rigged with a trap of some sort, possibly the windows as well. In part for this reason, the building merited further investigation. His mind made up, Goliath took off from his perch, gliding gracefully for the target rooftop. He intended to enter by a method that would have been highly impractical for the defense of the building. Impractical, that is, the intruder in question was merely human, lacking the strength and sharp talons of a Gargoyle warrior.   
  
Goliath reached the roof. Choosing a spot near the center, he prepared to strike at the tarred surface.   
  
The sky began to glow a deep red, strongest in the east, heralding the oncoming dawn. Goliath cursed to himself. He would be no use to Elisa if he suddenly turned to stone only minutes into his rescue attempt. With no alternative but to sit and wait for dusk to come, the mighty Gargoyle growled low in his throat, and prepared for his stone sleep. He settled low on the rooftop, out of sight of anyone on the streets or in the alley below. The dawning sun crept over the edge of the horizon, and Goliath froze, his body locked in stone to await the return of night.   
  
* * * * *  
  
Elisa crouched low behind a pool table, keeping as quiet as possible. She had escaped her bonds, cutting her wrists and hands several times in doing so. She had searched the basement, and made her way upstairs to the ground floor undetected. Even so, she was still trapped in the Joker's latest hideout. It was just after dawn, and most of his gang's members were asleep. There were two guards, both in the room she needed to cross in order to leave. Her only weapon was the knife she had used to free herself.   
  
*Shit,* she thought. *I gotta get out of here!* The two men guarding the front entrance were both armed, and both were significantly larger than Elisa. The bearded man spoke to his watch partner, and Elisa held her breath, listening closely.   
  
"You want some coffee?" He asked, yawning.   
  
"Sure. Lots of sugar, other than that, I don't care," the other replied. The first man who had spoken left the room, disappearing from Elisa's view. The other man seemed to remember something, because he perked up, and followed the first man through the doorway.   
  
"Hey, Bones! Wait a minute! I gotta tell ya what happened . . ."  
  
That was all the opportunity Elisa needed. Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, she moved to the door, and tried it.   
  
*Locked!*  
  
Her mind racing, she looked at the large picture windows, which were boarded up. *No, wait!* The window on the door wasn't boarded up, only shaded. She could try to break it, and climb out that way, but she'd definitely injure herself in doing so. If Elisa hurt herself badly enough that she couldn't run at full speed, she knew she'd be caught again. Elisa desperately looked around the room for anything she could use.  
  
*Pool table*.  
  
The implication of the pool table took a moment to sink in, but then Elisa realized why it was significant. Quickly, she used the knife to cut out a large piece of the table's green felt covering.   
  
Seconds later, Elisa heard the men returning. She frantically finished her final cut, dropped the knife, and threw the roughly cut piece of fabric over her head. Just as the two men re-entered the room, but before either one could register what they were seeing, Elisa took a running dive through the window in the upper half of the door. The glass shattered it with a dramatic crash as she went through it. Elisa rolled, bruising her shoulders and buttocks on the concrete steps. The awkwardness of the maneuver was compounded by the presence of the improvised shield, though it served her well and protected her from most of the breaking glass. She tipped to the side, hitting her head on a fire hydrant. Elisa, cursing away the pain, shook herself free from the fabric, got to her feet, and ran for her life as fast as her legs would carry her.   
  
"Boss ain't gonna be happy about this," Bones commented, watching the dark haired woman as she raced off down the street.   
  
"C'mon, let's get her!" His partner exclaimed, trying to push past Bones to go through the door.   
  
"Can you run that fast?" Bones asked simply. When the other man stayed silent, he continued. "Didn't think so. Me neither. She's not gonna get far, not in her condition. Anyway, Mister J has a little something waitin' for her. He always does."   
  
The two men started cleaning up the mess, both thinking about what they would tell their boss. Joker might have a contingency plan. It was also entirely possible that he was simply not going to be happy about this.   
  
Elisa ran, and ran, and ran. Her legs felt like they were on fire, but she kept pushing, urging her protesting muscles to keep going faster, keep taking her further from the Joker's reach. Everywhere she went, Elisa heard or imagined she could hear the sound of running feet behind her. She kept running for several blocks, until her fear began to subside. Exhausted, her bloodstream saturated with adrenaline, Elisa stopped on the sidewalk just outside another alleyway, breathing heavily. Her lungs burned, and her legs echoed the sentiment, adding to it the feeling that her knees had suddenly and inexplicably turned from bone and cartilage to a substance very much like jelly.   
  
Elisa heard voices, and she held her breath again, as painful as it was to do so. She could not determine to whom the voices belonged or what they were saying, only that they were getting closer. Panicked, Elisa climbed into a nearby dumpster to hide and see who was approaching before revealing her position. As she climbed in, Elisa was greeted by a blast of rancid stench. She hesitated for a second, balanced on the edge of the acrid pit. Her already exhausted muscles betrayed her, and she slipped, cracking her head on the edge of the dumpster and tumbling in, landing on her back with her head propped up in the corner of the receptacle. She was sitting in a puddle of unspeakable stench that almost completely covered her legs. Strangely, Elisa didn't mind it so much, as she drifted away into blissful unconsciousness.   
  
tbc . . . 


	4. Batman

Title: Night of Knights (4/?)  
  
Author: Lord Maedhros  
  
Rating: R (just to be safe)  
  
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover  
  
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control . . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.  
  
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated  
  
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.  
  
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular  
  
Author's notes: I am a confirmed Batman freak, and reading Gargoyles fan fiction (which I started doing last year) got me to thinking of how cool it might be to see the two together. A good deal of my Gargoyles background is fanfic based, but any relevant Batman history or character background is based on the comics, not TV or movie-verse.  
  
i/ = thoughts  
  
Chapter 4: Batman  
  
Goliath awoke, as always, with the setting of the sun, sending small chips of stone across the rooftop. The mighty Gargoyle threw back his head, bellowing into the night sky. He looked down to the rooftop at his feet, and his eyes flared, blazing white at close to blinding intensity. Without hesitation, he plunged the claws of his left hand into the roof, ripping away a chunk of the material. His right followed, and soon he was tearing mercilessly at the offending surface, gouging a hole large enough for his massive frame to fit through.  
Elsewhere in the city, Elisa awoke, as well. She was, to say the least, in a sorry state.  
Elisa was soaked to the skin, apparently from the soapy aftermath of a car wash being thrown on her. Her legs were covered in newly dumped garbage, and she hurt everywhere at once.  
But I'm alive, she thought. I'm alive, and I escaped.  
Painfully, Elisa pushed herself up until she was standing upright in the dumpster. Several large rats were startled in the process, and they scampered away over the piles of trash. Holding on tightly to the edge of the metal, she swung one leg over the edge, then the other, and finally slid down, acquiring yet another cut and opening a large rent in her shirt as she did so. Shivering, Elisa started towards the street. She was very nearly in the middle of the gang when she realized they were present. The small group of men instinctively pursued Elisa back into the alleyway, eventually surrounding her.  
"What's this?" one of the gang members asked, looking at Elisa.  
"Damn, woman, what happened to you?" said another. He wrinkled his nose at the dumpster smell she carried with her. "She's on our turf, but man, look at her!"  
A soft fluttering noise came from overhead, but Elisa thought she must have imagined it. No one else seemed to notice.  
"Not my call to make," their apparent leader of the moment remarked. "Sorry, lady, but rules is rules. You trespass here, you pay." He walked slowly towards Elisa, menacing her with a crowbar. Elisa, in no condition to run or fight, could only back away, stumbling. He raised the crowbar, and Elisa covered her head, preparing for the blow.  
He never got the chance to strike. Elisa heard a distinct whizzing noise, and she looked up to see the man, still holding the crowbar and staring at his hand, eyes wide with fear. His weapon had been attached to his hand by a thin rope of some sort, weighted and secured by a small but weighty metal disc, formed in the distinctive shape of a bat. The waning light that served the alleyway broke with a soft tinkling noise, plunging the passage into darkness.  
As if on cue, the seven occupants of the alleyway looked skyward. A second later, Elisa saw a dark, indeterminate shape appear over the lip of the building. Its wings were scalloped, and it descended slowly, with the artistic grace of a born and bred creature of the night.  
"Goliath?" she thought at first. Somehow, though, Elisa knew that wasn't right. A moment later, it didn't matter anymore, because the dark figure touched down, crumpling the man that had been standing over her. She could hear the distinctive crack of bone and cartilage giving way under the assault.  
What followed then was a blur of sound and motion, pain and confusion. Elisa crouched against the brick wall of the near building, watching shadows striking at yet darker shadows, listening to the grunts of the combatants; the crack of bones and teeth and the hollow thump of fists on flesh. And there was one shadow, darker than darkness, moving amongst them, felling all of the others in a whirling flurry of motion caught in a moment of brutal violence.  
As quickly as the incident started, it was over. Elisa found herself lifted bodily off the ground into a fireman's carry, and then she was airborne, rising quickly straight up the side of the building. The shadow reached the top of the roof, and set her down. The moonlight was much brighter up here, and it afforded Elisa a view of the mysterious shadow she could not have gotten in the dark confines of the alley. It was, Elisa saw, a man, not a gargoyle. He wore a form-fitting suit of dark gray, with black boots, gloves, and a mask that concealed most of his face and head, complete with pointed horns sticking straight up out of his head. A long, flowing black cape, which Elisa had first taken for a pair of leathery wings, completed the ensemble. He spoke to her, his voice deep and resonant.  
"Are you all right?" Batman asked simply.  
"I-I think so," Elisa answered, her adrenaline rush beginning to pass.  
Batman looked at Elisa, his expression unreadable behind the lenses of his cowl. A wave of pity swept over him for her injuries and experience with the dumpster, a feeling which was quickly replaced by respect for her resilience. He could not help but notice that she was strikingly beautiful, excepting, of course, her present condition. No, he chastised himself. That's Bruce Wayne talking, and he has no place here. The Batman took over again, absorbing Elisa's image with a cool objectivity, seeing the need to tend to the beleaguered officer's wounds. Elisa hadn't noticed the change in him, the subtle alteration of posture and manner, which had taken place in under four seconds. He allowed himself a brief moment of relief for that fact, and then he became all business once again.  
"Sit down," he instructed. Elisa did so, and Batman knelt at her side, opening a first-aid kit he had apparently left on the roof before entering the alley. He produced a flashlight, looked her over, and began to clean and dress each of Elisa's many cuts and scrapes. In minutes, he was finished. Elisa shivered, and found that she could not stop doing so. Batman reached back, removed his cape, and draped it over Elisa's shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, but it felt very warm. Batman cached the first-aid kit under a stone at the corner of the roof, which he slid back into place. In an instant, the opening was invisible.  
"How . . . how did you . . ." she began.  
"There are supply caches hidden all over the city. This is one," he replied simply. "Come with me. I will take you someplace safe."  
He scooped her up again, and lowered them down to street level. Before her stood a monstrous car, jet-black all over, with a truly enormous hood, a pair of scalloped fins on the rear, and huge, bulging front fenders. It looked like . . . Elisa searched for the words to describe it.  
  
It's like a Corvette on steroids. The sealed windshield and roof slid forward of their own volition, revealing the driver's compartment, with one passenger seat. It seemed more like the cockpit of a fighter aircraft that the passenger cabin of a car. Batman helped her to climb over and into the passenger seat. He, of course, took his place in the driver's seat, and started the engine, which whined like a turbine. Elisa fastened her seat belt, and the Batman did likewise. The hatch slid closed, and the car took off, roaring along the streets of Gotham City.  
* * * * *  
Back in the alleyway, the small gang was just beginning to pick themselves up after their encounter with the Batman.  
"Oh, man," one man groaned, clutching his midsection. "I like, hurt everywhere."  
"Was that . . .Him?" another asked. He was nervous even to say what he thought, but the others knew.  
"Yeah," one of the more experienced members replied. "Congrats, boys. We just got our asses handed to us by the Bat." He spat blood, and wiggled his newly loosened teeth with his tongue.  
"Congratulations indeed, boys! Quite a performance!" The distinctive voice preceded the speaker into the gang's midst. Joker appeared out of the shadows, applauding appreciatively. He set a small lamp down on an old cardboard box to light the narrow space. "I must say, I am glad I went to all this trouble, even if she did escape in the end. Challenging quarry is so much more fun."  
"Wh-what's up, Mister J?" the nervous leader of the gang began. Being up against Batman in a fight was scary as hell, but being around Joker was worse than scary. It was terrifying. Feeling a sudden need to defend himself, he tried to explain. "Look, man, we had her! Just like you said, we had her for you! Everything was going fine until that Bat- freak came along!" He stopped suddenly, as a haunting look passed across the Joker's features.  
"Batman? Batman, you say? An interesting development, this is. I was really just having a little honest fun this time; I didn't anticipate the Dork Knight getting involved. Oh, well," he paused. "Oh, well, on to bigger and better things, then." He smiled at the gang.  
"What? What does that mean?" a younger member of the unfortunate group asked.  
"Pull my finger," Joker giggled, beaming. He extended his left hand, index finger pointing. Hesitant, but knowing failure to play along could conceivably be worse; the gang's leader reached out and pulled the Joker's outstretched finger.  
"AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!" he screamed, as a thin stream of concentrated acid hit him full in the face. He dropped to his knees, screaming and trying to get the powerful solution off his burning face. The others watched, stunned, as Joker pulled out a large example of an Uzi machine pistol, seemingly from thin air. Without a word, the Joker opened fire on his incidental accomplices, killing them all in one sweeping gesture of his right arm. Bored with the incessant screaming of the acid- faced man, Joker kicked him in the ribs, and then shot him, too. He left the alley as he had come, picking up the small lamp and heading back towards home.  
* * * * *  
"What the hell was that!?" one of the men asked in alarm, at the loud crashing sounds emanating from the upstairs of the building.  
"Couldn't tell ya fer sure, but I'd say we've got some unwanted company, boys," Bones replied confidently. "C'mon, let's take a look." They pulled out their handguns, and headed upstairs.  
The stairs creaked underfoot as the small group made their way upstairs. The building was an old one, having long since fallen into disrepair and decay. The light was out, and had been for three weeks, but no one had bothered to fix it in that time. Their flashlight beams preceded them up the stairs, piercing the darkness ahead of the men.  
"Over here," one said, signaling from the end of the hall with his light. He entered the room ahead of the others. A moment later, his flashlight clattered to the floor. The beam circled the room, slowing steadily until it settled on the far wall. It didn't move again, and there was no further sound from the room. The light cast a shadow on the wall, showing a scalloped structure at the base of a large section of darkness above. A second later, the shadow disappeared. Bones, in the lead, turned to his companions and mouthed a single word.  
Bat.   
His companions nodded their acknowledgement, and hefted their weapons. They stayed together in a tight cluster, entering the room with their guns ready. The room was covered in stone dust, along with chunks of concrete, wood, and roofing tar from the large hole that had been torn out of the ceiling. Another hole led straight through the wall, out of the now- empty room. It was clear, too, that no tools had been used to perform this task. Someone had ripped the roof and wall out with their bare hands.  
As they stared at the destruction in the room, the wall to the side and behind the small group erupted in a shower of plaster chips and splintering wood. The gang never so much as got a shot off, as Goliath tore through them, teeth bared and eyes blazing white. He waded into the tightly packed men, striking at the terrified gangsters left and right. The mighty Gargoyle's left fist caught the first man low in the gut, pushing him up and straight through the wall to Goliath's right. His tail lashed out at the feet of the second, dropping it's victim to the floor. Goliath whipped his tail back, sending his hapless assailant to join his first fallen companion. His left wing snapped up, breaking a third man's arm at the elbow with a sickening crack of bone. The others followed in short order, none of them a match for the winged warrior's strength at close quarters.  
Goliath stopped, and surveyed his surroundings. The air held a musty, stale scent of decay, and the building was obviously deep in disrepair. The massive Gargoyle inhaled deeply, filling his huge lungs with air and passing as many of the local scents through his nostrils as possible. He searched the area through the scents it held; rat droppings, microwave dinners, stale beer and potato chips all came to him. Over everything was a persistent chemical tang that burned slightly at his nostrils, finally seeming to settle at the back of his throat. He searched the third floor thoroughly, going through each room as quickly as he could. Cautiously, Goliath made his way down the stairway, to the second floor of the building. That, too, was deserted, and the huge Gargoyle was just beginning to descend the next set of stairs when the sound of a door slamming shut stopped him in his tracks. Eyes aglow, he reluctantly backed up the stairs to wait and see what the situation was.  
"Honey, I'm home!" a thin, whiny voice sang out. "I looked for those cute little cinnamon swirls you like so much, but the man at the store said they were all out again," he continued. "I thought these would look lovely on the . . .hey, now wait a minute, something's not entirely kosher here." He said with a suspicious air. He pulled out a pipe, and busied himself with blowing bubbles from it as he stroked his pointed chin, humming softly to himself.  
Goliath had heard enough. He bounded down the final stairway, landing at the base of the stairs with eyes glowing and a growl in his throat. He stepped forward into the light, baring his teeth and assuming a fighting stance, squaring off to the Joker.  
"Woo! Careful there, big guy! Something might fall out of that loincloth if you're not careful," Joker addressed Goliath, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of an angry Gargoyle in the room with him. He just stood there, grinning at the behemoth.  
"Where is she? What have you done with Elisa Maza?" Goliath roared at him. His eyes seemed to brighten as he spoke.  
"Believe it or else, my large grotesque friend, she left our little party of her own meager wit and considerable daring more than twelve hours ago." He smiled at Goliath again. "But don't worry, Batman can't protect her forever! And no one cuts out on my game before it's finished."  
"You will never have that chance, murderer!" Goliath roared, and  
lunged at the Joker. His quarry, however, disappeared into the floor, dropping through a cleverly concealed trap door. The opening shut solidly, with the sound of metal on thick metal.  
Goliath snarled, and plunged his hands into the floor, ripping the metal out of its mounts in the floor supports in one massive surge upwards. He wasted no time, but dove straight through, landing easily on his feet in the basement below. There was no immediate sign of the Joker. It was dark, but Goliath's night- accustomed eyes adjusted quickly. The enraged warrior scanned the room, searching the darkness for his quarry.  
Come out and fight, you coward. A tiny pinprick, near the base of Goliath's tail, caused him to turn. Annoyed, he pulled a small hollow dart out of his skin and examined it. It was a tranquilizer dart, the type sometimes used on wild animals. The dart still contained some liquid of a strange green color, visible through the clear plastic tube. What is that imbecile doing? He thought. Drugs? He has no idea what he's dealing with. Goliath continued to search the area. His eyes glowed in intervals, flaring at each unconfirmed noise. Goliath snarled in frustration, and his steel-hard toe claws took chunks out of the cement floor as he tensed his muscles. Another dart hit him in the side of the neck, and a third in the wing spar, eliciting a short grunt of irritation from the Gargoyle. A faked cough, vocalized with the air of a reproachful teacher towards a naïve young student, got his attention. The titanic warrior spun around, eyes glowing and teeth bared in a savage snarl of menace. Joker was there, a CO2 powered dart gun held loosely in his right hand. "I must say, what you lack in brains, you almost make up for in brawn! Don't worry, though," he grinned wickedly. "You won't have much brain left to worry about soon. That was my extra-special-super-duper-high-octane formula! Stays with most folks for weeks! Well, when they're put under intensive life support, that is. Hee hee hee!" "I feel nothing, clown," Goliath retorted menacingly. "You will not escape me this time, murderer." "You say that like it's a bad thing," Joker said, sounding hurt. "Sorry, but not tonight. Adios, Gargantuan!" He ran away from the Gargoyle, racing up the stairs. Joker was definitely faster than he looked. Goliath bounded after him, pursuing the master criminal up the stairs of the building. They emerged on the roof, and Goliath cornered him at its edge, baring his teeth and snarling low in his throat. "Oh, all right. Fine then, you've got me. By the by, did I ever actually tell you what I injected you with? Granted, I'm not even sure it'll work on you, but . . ." "What is it, clown?" "Well, normally we end up with people strangling each other, making obscene gestures, eating rats, you know, fun stuff. They always look so happy, too. I don't know why the police make such a big deal about it. Anyway, it begs the question of what could be missing with you. I just can't seem to put my finger on it, let me see . . ." "Enough!" Goliath bellowed. "I've had enough of you inane babbling! I'm going to-" "Euphrates! Or is it eureka? It needs a catalyst! I knew I'd remember, I really did, yep yep. Let's see now, ah yes! Here we go." With that, the Joker pulled out a small handgun, and casually shot Goliath. The bullet hit him in the left side, passing through his belly and out his lower back. It missed his major organs, but it was intensely painful. The huge Gargoyle roared with the infliction of the wound. "That's my cue, folks! See you around, big guy!" Joker dashed to the fire escape like a man seeking cover from a bomb, and disappeared. Goliath tried to follow, but an unseen force kept him rooted to the ground. What sorcery is this? Kill the bastard. What? No, never in cold blood. Do it no He's dangerous. Go find him, and kill him I won't yes you will RRRAAARRRGGGGHHHH!!! "RRRAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!" Goliath bellowed into the night, all thoughts of the Joker forgotten for the moment. His eyes erupted in a flash of white light, and his sharp teeth made themselves visible in the process. Goliath's massive muscles bunched up with unnatural energy, growing tighter and tighter until he could no longer bear the strain of it. Without thinking, he let loose with his claws, ripping apart a large section of the roof with one titanic blow. The pain subsided as he did so, and then began to grow back. In seconds, it was nearly unbearable once more. Without much of his conscious mind to govern his actions, Goliath roared again. Maddened by the pain, he took off, trying desperately to escape it through flight. His gliding was erratic, and he descended almost immediately, landing on the roof of a car. Razor-sharp talons came into play of their own volition, tearing through the sheet metal as if it were paper. The terrified occupants screamed, awakening the Gargoyle's natural urge to protect at the last crucial instant. Goliath stopped himself from delivering a killing blow, and instead took off again, instinctively using the momentum of the car to catch the air in his enormous wings. He glided up to another rooftop, where he alighted for a moment before spreading his wings and taking off again. The unearthly roar of Manhattan's mightiest warrior resounded through the concrete canyons of Gotham city. 


	5. Dangerous Game

Title: Night of Knights (5/?)  
  
Author: Lord Maedhros  
  
Rating: R (just to be safe)  
  
Fandom: Gargoyles/ Batman Crossover  
  
Summary: Batman/Gargoyles crossover. Goliath will do anything for Elisa's safety, but strengths become liabilities when one loses control . . . something the Joker is adept at exploiting.  
  
Feedback: Any you are willing to provide would be very much appreciated  
  
Archive: Anywhere, just tell me first  
  
Genre: Action/Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: All related characters are the property of Disney/ DC Comics. They are NOT my characters (as cool as that would be), nor are they being used for profit of any kind. As always, hats off to Bob Kane and Bill Finger, the immortal creators of Batman.  
  
Warnings: Violence; maybe some spoilers but just in the general sense, nothing particular  
  
Author's notes: I am soooooo sorry about the delay in posting, I was rather estranged from my usual beta reader for a time, and then I came home from college where I didn't have internet access. . . it was just a mess. the chapter has actually been finished for some time, but enough with excuses; I'm sorry. To the Batcave!

_italics_ = thoughts  
  
Chapter 5: Dangerous Game

Barbara Gordon yawned widely, stretching her arms as she lifted her head from where it had been resting   
on her desk. She adjusted her glasses, and reached for her tea.  
  
_How long was I sleeping?_ she wondered groggily. A sip of cold tea answered her question to the extent   
she could comprehend at that point. _Long enough for my tea to be cold. Figures. _  
  
Babs turned her wheelchair around, and headed for the kitchen of her apartment. Her head ached, and   
  
her eyes were having a little trouble focusing. She put the kettle on again, and checked her wall clock, which   
  
read 2:42 a.m. _So why did I wake up?   
  
_"Hey, Snoozing Beauty! In here!" an easy and familiar voice drifted in from the living room. Barbara   
  
smiled, and wheeled herself into the next room. Babs killed her grin with a concerted effort as she entered,   
  
adopting a stern face and placing her fists on her hips.  
  
"How did you get in here?" she asked sharply. The man she was addressing was dressed in a form-  
  
fitting bodysuit, jet-black all over but for the broad bands of blue that formed a 'V' across his chest, then ran   
  
across his upper back and down his arms. His mask lay on the coffee table, sticking out from under his   
  
booted feet. Dick flashed her a roguish grin, and vaulted upright from the couch.  
  
"Oh, well, you know," he began casually. The exasperated look Babs flashed his way shut him up.   
  
"Okay, okay. In through the clock, second panel in between the six and the seven. Then past the alarms in   
  
the roof, and through the trapdoor in the ceiling of the linen closet. Happy?"  
  
"Yes, thank you," she replied with feigned formality and a wan smile.  
  
"I wish you wouldn't do that."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Make me tell you how I did it every time I break in here," he said sheepishly. "It's like asking a magician   
how a trick is done; it's just not magic if you reveal all your secrets."  
  
"And I'm sure you think you're quite the magician," she said. "At least Tim knocks when he comes in   
  
through the window." She smiled again, and reached towards him. Dick caught her halfway, lifting her easily   
  
off her chair into a kiss. "It's been awhile, hasn't it, former Boy Wonder?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess it has," he said. "I hate to do this, but I don't get called up here for friendly visits very   
  
often. What's going on?"  
  
Barbara sighed heavily. She suddenly looked very worn-out and tired. "You're right, of course. Dick, it's   
  
the Joker. He's got an NYPD detective, one Elisa Maza, held hostage somewhere in Gotham. He hasn't made   
  
any ransom demands, and he's made no contact of any kind with the police."  
  
Nightwing's expression darkened. Even without the mask in place, Babs could see his training and   
  
experience with his mentor bubbling to the surface; the characteristics of him that were unmistakably coming   
  
from the Batman. His posture shifted, very subtly, and she watched as Dick left momentarily, and the protégé   
of the Bat seized control. With the Joker, a ransom demand or a threat list did not mean he wasn't going to kill   
someone. The absence of these things meant that it was a virtual certainty that he intended to kill her. "So   
  
what do we do?" he asked her.  
  
"What can we do?" Babs asked back, ignoring his personality shift for the moment. "Batman's out   
  
searching for her, along with Robin, but there's not much hope at this point. We've eliminated most of the   
  
Joker's old haunts, and if he's set up someplace new, we're not likely to find him before it's too late."  
  
"You don't think Batman can find her," he said, more a statement then a question.  
  
"I'm not sure even Batman can now, Dick," she replied wearily. "And stop it. You're acting just like him,   
  
totally cool and stoic in a crisis. As useful as that is on a case, it won't help you here, and it's not what I need   
to hear right now." Barbara looked more worn-out then ever as she spoke. She looked at Dick with tired eyes,   
and he relaxed again.  
  
"When was the last time you got any real sleep? You've got to start taking better care of yourself here,   
  
Babs," he said, his demeanor softening as he registered her puffy, bloodshot eyes.  
  
"Well, if you don't count the last few hours before you arrived . . . uh, about three days I guess." She   
  
poked him in the stomach. "You should talk, Hunk Wonder. You're as much an insomniac as Bruce is, you   
  
know. And by the way, that last line sounded like something he might say, too." Barbara winked at Dick,   
  
slapping his leg lightly with the back of her hand. From the kitchen, the kettle started to whistle. "Come on,   
  
I'm going to get my tea. We can wait until morning, then Batman can fill you in on what happened tonight."   
  
She turned her wheelchair, and started towards the kitchen. As she did so, they heard the subtle clearing of a   
throat across the room. Batman stood there, half supporting and half carrying a young, dark haired woman.   
  
She looked as though she had just been to hell and back. Her hair was tangled, her clothes were ripped and   
  
stained with everything from blood to rat droppings, and she was covered with lacerations and bruises.   
  
Most of her injuries had been attended to; they would only heal with time and rest. It was a miracle that she   
  
had survived at all.  
  
"Speak of the devil . . ." Babs started softly, her voice filled with amazement.  
  
". . .And he appears." Nightwing finished for her, gazing almost disbelievingly at his former partner. He   
  
quickly got a blanket out of the closet, and offered it to the young woman. She took it, shaking, and Dick   
  
helped to wrap her in it. This done, Elisa lay down on the couch, and promptly fell asleep. Babs wheeled over   
to her, and examined the bruises on Elisa's face. She looked up at her mentor.  
  
"How did you find her? Barbara asked him. I would have known if anything happened with the Joker,   
  
but if you didn't find his latest hideout, I don't see how . . ."  
  
"I didn't find the Joker's hideout," Batman started. "She escaped on her own. It's possible the Joker was   
  
simply toying with her, but she took advantage of it well enough."  
  
"Anything's possible where he's concerned," Babs interjected. "But let's not worry about that now.   
  
Right now, we need to protect the detective, and let her rest."  
  
"Agreed," Batman said decisively. He turned to Nightwing, who had discreetly donned his mask again.   
  
"Let's go. Based on where she was when I found her, I have a pretty good idea of where the Joker is. We can   
still catch him."  
  
Dick just nodded, his eyes narrowing to slits behind his mask. He glanced at Babs, who gestured   
  
towards the window with a look that said 'what, you need me to tell you to follow him?' When he looked up,   
  
Batman was gone. Cursing himself, Nightwing leaped out the window after his former partner. He launched   
  
himself backwards off the windowsill, spiraling and rotating through the air with the grace and agility of a   
  
born aerial acrobat. Time itself seemed to slow as he fell, plummeting towards the streets of Gotham far   
  
below. He closed his eyes, letting out his breath and relishing the invigorating, nearly intoxicating sensation   
  
of total freefall. The air rushing past him whipped his hair into a frenzied state to contrast the perfectly   
  
controlled positioning of his body. He kept falling for a few instants longer than was probably safe,   
  
indulging himself, then turned in midair with a violent twist. Nightwing took the well practiced shot blind,   
  
snapping his wrist back sharply to let loose the grapnel and line concealed in his forearm gauntlet. He knew   
  
the shot was good the instant the grapnel left his hand, with the same utter certainty of his own performance   
  
he had known all his life. There was still fear every time he performed such a maneuver, but it was a fear that   
  
he savored, tasting the release it afforded him, however brief. The monofilament line went taut when   
  
Nightwing was more than halfway to the pavement below, and he began to swing without even the slightest   
  
hint of jarring or jerking motion to his flight. He caught a glimpse of the Batman, silhouetted against the   
  
waxing moon, and seamlessly changed direction to follow him. Nightwing let go at the apex of his swing and   
  
threw his next line, following the Dark Knight over the rooftops of Gotham.  
  
Robin dropped from the edge of the building, into a long swing that took him under one of the   
  
pedestrian skywalks that linked the Rucka towers. The wind, ever-present at this height, whipped his hair   
  
and cape around, but the momentum of the maneuver carried Tim unerringly all the way to one of the many   
  
ledges of Wayne Tower, where he alighted gracefully. The wind still made him nervous at times, but he did   
  
his best to hide it. On top of that, the local news was predicting a major thunderstorm for later that night. As   
  
skilled as he was, Tim did not relish the prospect of swinging from one wet surface to the next, fifty stories   
  
up. _Oh well_, he thought, _I guess it comes with the territory. _For the third time, he went over in his mind the   
  
events of the past hour, as he re-stocked the tools and weapons in his utility belt from the hidden cache he   
  
found there. No matter how he put it together, some parts of the story still didn't fit.  
  
A series of murders took place in New York, perpetrated by the Joker. A New York Police woman   
  
followed the Joker back to Gotham, and he kidnaps her. No big surprises; Joker had never been afraid of the   
  
police.  
  
Then she escapes, on her own, from inside the Joker's hideout. Tim figured Batman and Nightwing were   
  
moving in at that moment. Just like that, the Joker was going to be caught again. Somehow, the whole   
  
situation didn't sit right with Tim. _This is the Joker we're dealing with here_, he thought. _It can't be that   
  
easy._ Nevertheless, he still had his job to do.  
  
"Keep an eye on Gotham's other problems, Tim," he said out loud, in a deep voice that mocked the   
  
Batman's resonating tones. "Big fucking deal, Bruce and Dick tackle the Joker, and I'm stuck with back alley   
  
muggers and jaywalkers. This sucks," he concluded ruefully. He slumped forward onto one of the ornate   
  
drain spouts that stuck out from the sides of the building; his gloved fingers traced the cleverly disguised   
  
handholds and grapnel catch spots along its length. Tim's face hung over the side of the eagle headed   
  
gargoyle, allowing himself the illusion that he was floating above the city streets. Robin sighed as he   
  
watched the activity below, the passing cars, the pedestrians on the sidewalks, the doorman hailing cabs for   
  
hotel patrons, the large winged creature gliding between buildings . . .  
  
_Whoa! _  
  
The dark, winged figure was shaped like a man, but even from fifty- three stories above Tim could see   
  
that it was huge, much larger than any normal human. That, and the fact that it had wings and a tail, made   
  
him all the more certain that this was not a normal person gliding about below him. Tim was considering   
  
waiting for backup, when the creature circled, then touched down in the middle of the intersection. The   
  
sounds of cars screeching to a halt, people screaming, and an eerie, inhuman roar drifted up to Tim's ears. It   
  
was all the prompting he needed to convince him that Robin had to do something. Wasting no time, he   
  
pressed the right eye of the eagle on which he sat. Its beak ground open obediently, and Robin extracted the   
  
line he found there. Holding it loosely in his right hand, he dropped off the ledge. Air rushed past with   
  
unbridled fury as he fell, eyeballing his target all the way down. With fifteen stories to go, he tightened up   
  
on his grip, feeling the heat of the intense friction through the tough material of his gloves, even as he felt   
  
the pull of the tendons in his right arm, his nerves shouting a complaint to his brain at the abuse. He ignored   
  
the pain, and used his cape with his free hand to direct his fall. He let go completely two stories up, a move   
  
that placed him squarely on the broad shoulders of the creature, which fell forward from the unexpected   
  
impact. Robin flipped forward and off, twisting in midair to land facing his adversary.  
  
As it stood, Tim felt a wave of fear wash over his mind. It was bigger than he'd thought, standing about   
  
seven feet tall. It—he had to weigh about three hundred pounds, maybe more, all of it muscle. Its eyes   
  
started to glow a cold, menacing white, and Tim's hand found his staff, extending it. The creature leaped at   
  
Tim with an ear-shattering bellow, and Robin vaulted out of the way, its talons missing him by inches. It   
  
attacked again, slashing wildly. Robin ducked and dodged, waiting for an opening. When it came, he let   
  
loose, delivering a series of kicks and Bo strikes that would have laid out almost any human opponent,   
  
finishing with a two-footed push that sent him into a graceful back flip away from the creature. Landing   
  
smartly, he looked back.  
  
Goliath staggered under the barrage of blows, his head snapping back at several of them. Stunned, the   
  
large Gargoyle stumbled for a moment before regaining his balance. His assailant was outfitted in a colorful   
  
costume and a cape, and a staff for a weapon. Goliath's clouded mind attempted to work through the   
  
information his eyes were providing, to no avail. He saw the Joker again, attacking him, hurting him further,   
  
and laughing at him. Enraged, he went after Robin again, swiping at him with his talons, forgetting all his old   
  
fighting tactics in the blindness of his rage. Regardless of style, Goliath was fast, and his years of fighting   
  
experience gave him an edge. He swung tirelessly, but his opponent kept avoiding his deadly blows. He   
  
began to back Robin up against a large commercial van, boxing him in.  
  
Robin saw the creature stand, and stared open-mouthed at its resilience. It began to attack him again,   
  
snarling and spitting like a rabid dog, eyes blazing in the night. Robin struck when he could, mostly with his   
  
staff, but his blows did little to slow the creature. Suddenly, Tim realized that he was being boxed in against   
  
the van. In a desperation move, he hit Goliath as hard as he could with his staff, and leaped forward and to   
  
the side. As he did so, the ancient warrior's wing snapped up, striking Robin full in the face with its bony   
  
edge. He was knocked to the ground from the force of the blow, landing flat on his back on the pavement.   
  
Immediately, he kipped up, landing on his feet, but his adversary was ready for him.  
  
The attack came at him in slow motion, his enemies' lethal hand just inching towards its target. Robin's   
  
muscles were equally sluggish in dealing with the onset of this threat, and he could only watch in morbid   
  
fascination as the sharp points approached his body. He was turning to get out of the way, he knew he was   
  
turning away, but it seemed as though he should be finished by now, the claws that held his attention   
  
should have already missed his chest and passed by him, but they hadn't, and now they were too close, and   
  
Tim realized that they weren't going to miss at all. Robin only managed a half turn away before the steel-hard   
  
talons ripped through Kevlar and flesh on his right side. The claws caught in his cape, and Tim was lifted off   
  
the ground by the force of the blow. Goliath's follow-through sent the Boy Wonder flying through the air,   
  
his body describing an arc that would have been graceful, had it not been for the brutal nature of the force   
  
that had initiated it. He landed hard on the windshield of a pickup truck, breaking through it and slumping in   
  
the hole his fall had made in the surface. Robin lay still, bleeding profusely from the gash in his side.  
  
Goliath bellowed into the air, daring anyone to challenge him and releasing another load of pressure   
  
from his mind. As before, the pain grew back, but there was a moment of rational thought before he again   
  
succumbed to the effects of the Joker's poison. In that moment, he saw what had happened, saw the pained   
  
face of Robin on his opponent, and he roared again in anger at his own lack of control. Before he could do   
  
any more damage, he ran past Robin's limp form and leaped up, gripping the side of the building with his   
  
claws and climbing away as quickly as he could. Tim laid where he had fallen, his breath coming in short and   
  
halting gasps. He clutched at his side, and a shockwave of pain greeted his touch, causing him to lose   
  
consciousness once more.  
  
Tim woke up slowly, perceiving the figures and voices that surrounded him with a distinctly detached   
  
feeling. He wasn't really in the room, of course. He was just watching, on an old, rusty television with chronic   
reception problems. It wasn't really his body on the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, respirator and heart   
  
monitor. The voices continued to drone on, in a broken, incomplete line of phrases, rather than actual   
  
sentences. Through the haze that clouded his mind and senses, Tim struggled to make sense of it all.  
  
". . .lost a lot of blood . . ."  
  
". . .we should have been there, I tell . . ."  
  
". . .almost ended up . . ."  
  
". . . Jason . . ."  
  
Finally frustrated with his lack of understanding, or maybe just regaining the ability (he couldn't tell   
  
which) Tim started to talk. Even his voice sounded strange, but things were a bit clearer than they had been   
  
a few minutes before.  
  
"Wh. .wha' happened?" he murmured sleepily. The figures around him started to come into better focus,   
  
and he could see Nightwing, Babs and Doctor Leslie Thompkins talking quietly nearby. All three looked in   
  
his direction as he spoke, and for as quickly as Dick tried to kill it, Tim could see the worried look etched in   
  
Nightwing's expression.  
  
"Hey Tim, how are you feeling?" Babs was the first to speak, carefully keeping her voice light and   
  
gentle. Though he could still tell that she was worried, Babs kept those thoughts more closely guarded than   
  
Dick did.  
  
"Ugh, now I know what it's like to get hit with a wrecking ball," Tim tried to be as tough and sarcastic as   
  
he imagined the others would be. "I have a new sense of sympathy for those old out-of-code buildings on   
  
the Hill." Feeling some energy returning to his body, Tim tried to sit up. His effort was rewarded by yet   
  
another burst of blinding pain in his right side, and he gasped in shock at the sudden sensation. Doctor   
  
Leslie was already there, helping to ease his head back down onto the pillow.  
  
"Careful, Timothy," she cautioned him. "It would be best if you just kept still for a while. Richard,   
  
Barbara, you two can have a minute to talk to him, but he needs rest right now. Be quick about it."  
  
"Yes ma'am," Dick saluted briefly with two fingers. Babs arched an eyebrow at him. He turned back to   
  
Tim, his demeanor again becoming serious. "So, uh, just what did hit you, Tim?" he asked bluntly, voicing   
  
the question that was in all of their minds. "I mean, your side looks like you picked a fight with a polar bear   
  
having a bad day or something . . ." Babs discreetly caused her wheelchair to turn sharply, 'kicking' Dick in   
  
the shin.  
  
"But Doctor Leslie says you'll be fine as long as you don't do anything strenuous until it heals," Babs   
  
said quickly, flashing Dick a withering look. He turned away sheepishly. "Seriously, Tim, what happened?   
  
Witnesses were talking about some kind of monster, with wings or something . . ."  
  
"I don't know what it was," Tim said. "It was acting like it wanted to hurt someone in the worst way, so I   
  
just tackled him. I didn't have any time to call for you guys to help. From what I can tell, he's really strong,   
  
really tough, and he can fly or something. I landed a lot of good hits, but I just couldn't bring him down."  
  
"You did good," Dick told him seriously. "Whatever that thing was, it didn't go after anybody else after   
  
you fought it. You probably just saved a lot of people tonight."  
  
"Yeah, thanks," Tim came back in a half sarcastic, half grateful tone. "Be careful, you guys. That thing is   
tougher than it looks, and that's saying something."  
  
"We will."  
  
"Oh, um, how'd it go with the Joker?" Tim asked.  
  
"Ah, well . . ." Dick began. "it didn't exactly go as planned. We found a giggling jack-in-the-box that   
  
taunted us with some pretty lame insults, until it started spewing poisonous gas at us. As far as booby-   
  
traps go, it was kind of minimal, actually," he said. "We found evidence of a fight on the third floor, and in   
  
the cellar. Whatever happened in there, one or more of the fighters involved must have been incredibly   
  
strong. There are whole sections of wall missing upstairs, and the roof had been torn through. I didn't know   
  
what would have done that, until you'd told us what happened earlier," he finished.  
  
"And you think it's whatever I tackled tonight?" Tim asked.  
  
"I think so, Tim," Dick told him. "Gotta go, the boss is waiting." With that, Nightwing took a step to the   
  
side and dove out the window, disappearing into the night.  
  
"Take care, Tim," Babs told him. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" "Hey, someone has to keep   
  
your boyfriend out of trouble," he teased, managing a weak grin. "I'll be fine, you go do what you do best."  
  
"See you later, then," she replied. "We'll let you know how it goes." And she left.  
  
Tim was left to himself, feeling thoroughly defeated and alone. He fell asleep listening to the beeping of   
  
the heart monitor, the slow, steady hiss of the respirator, and the pattering of the raindrops that were just   
  
then beginning to fall outside.  
  
Elsewhere in Gotham, Goliath glided low over the rooftops, seeking to rid himself of the madness with   
  
which he was afflicted. His flight, as before, was erratic, but he also flew more slowly now, wobbling a bit in   
  
the air as he went. The rain was starting to fall harder, and the wind was picking up, which made flight   
  
difficult. Whatever was left of his conscious mind knew what was happening to him. He remembered what   
  
had occurred, though his thoughts came only in a broken series of pictures and sensations. He remembered   
  
fighting . . .Vikings? No, no, that was long ago. Just thugs, like any that he might encounter in Scotland. New

York, rather, not Scotland anymore. He had been fighting, either way, and then Goliath saw him. That face,   
  
grinning at him with its excessively broad, wicked smile, full of malice and tainted with the eerie touch of   
  
insanity. He remembered the dart, and the bullet, and the flash of searing, white-hot pain that blossomed   
  
from his left side and spread throughout his body, followed closely by a similar flash through his mind. He   
  
had wanted to kill him, tried to pursue him, but he had been unable to. Now Goliath saw him everywhere.  
  
Each human he encountered now bore that face, that evil, and he felt a desperate need to attack it, to   
  
make the pain stop, to quiet the commotion in his brain that was driving him mad.  
  
A sound reached his ears then. More than a sound, it was a laugh that drifted up to him, kindling a spark   
of rage inside his mind. Again, Goliath's mind flew through the events of the night, and the spark grew to a   
  
flame, and the flame to an inferno in his mind, which manifested itself with a strong, pulsing glow in his eyes.   
  
As he glided on, the laugh reached him again. This time, he was able to pinpoint the source: a small   
  
gathering of college students on the roof of the apartment building below him. The laugh had come from a   
  
young man, shirt off and beer in hand, who was shouting drunken challenges to the ever-gathering storm.   
  
Infuriated, Goliath dove for the rooftop, landing hard. The keg was the first thing to fall victim to his wrath,   
  
as his claws shredded the thin metal and sent several pints of beer in all directions. The drunken man turned   
  
in anger at the destruction of the keg. An objection stuck in his throat as he saw the intended target of his   
  
outburst.  
  
The young man faced Goliath, and the gargoyle saw his quarry. Joker stood before him, grinning madly   
  
and raising his hands towards his pursuer. Goliath's hand grabbed the man's arm as it came towards him, and   
  
the Gargoyle used it to toss the unfortunate young man across the roof. With a yelp, the man sailed   
  
awkwardly through the air, turning slowly, to finally land with a painful end over end tumble that took him   
  
almost to the opposite edge. Goliath turned, and was at first confused to now see the Joker facing him from   
  
the other side. Hadn't he just tossed the giggling fool away? No matter, he would just have to hit him harder   
  
next time. He would wipe that ugly, evil grin off the maniac's smirking face.  
  
The young woman that Goliath now faced tried to run, but the ancient warrior's huge wings unfurled,   
  
and she ran straight into the tough leathery skin that spanned them. She bounced off and fell back from the   
  
force of the blow, and she watched in horror as the mighty Gargoyle raised his talons, snarling, for a killing   
  
blow.  
  
A quiet rustling sound, almost inaudible against the now-pounding rain, and Goliath suddenly arched   
  
backwards, a roar caught in his throat before it could fully escape. Batman stood at the opposite end of the   
  
rope that had wrapped around the Gargoyle's neck, attempting to pull Goliath off his intended victim. Seeing   
  
that his present course of action, while distracting, was not pulling his adversary back, the Dark Knight   
  
decided on a different course of action.  
  
Batman took a step, leaped up, and dropped off the edge of the building. Goliath stood for half a second,   
as if failure to realize the demands of physics would stop it from affecting him. Then the line, which Batman   
  
still held, went taut. The combined force of Batman's body weight and the momentum of his fall pulled   
  
Goliath clear off his feet. He was airborne for half a second, before his body crashed forcibly into the roof   
  
and began skidding across it. With a defiant snarl, Goliath slammed the talons of his left hand into the tarred   
  
surface, cracking the cement base and leaving four long gouges in the concrete before the resistance from   
  
his dragging claws halted his motion. His other hand groped until it finally found the line that was attached   
  
to his neck, and he cut it with a swift motion of his claws. The loose end of rope left his sight, off the edge of   
  
the building. The huge Gargoyle looked down, searching for the troublesome creature in the alley below.  
  
The Batman had vanished.  
  
Goliath turned back to his previous target, only to see a furtive shape scrambling desperately down the   
  
fire escape on the opposite side of the building. He almost moved to pursue, but was stopped in his tracks   
  
by the vision that flashed before his eyes a second before she disappeared. As the girl looked back towards   
  
him, he saw her face—not gaunt, pale and evil, but young, fearful, and entirely human. Such was his shock at   
this sight that he stopped short of following, as several conflicting thoughts fought with one another for   
  
control of his mind. His mind raced back, re- living the events of the past few hours. In one moment, he saw   
  
the Joker, leering up at him from the rooftop; in the next, he saw a group of terrified college students recoiling   
from his sudden assault. It was impossible to sort out the reality from the insanity, the memory from   
  
imagination. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, attempting to sort out the confusion in his mind.  
  
When he opened them again seconds later, the Batman was there. The driving rain beat at his shoulders,   
lashing at his cloaked form. His long, billowing cape whipped about him in the gale force winds, seeming to   
  
take on a life of its own; a brief glimpse of the daemon that plagued the man.  
  
Batman alighted behind the Gargoyle, and felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his body. His   
  
experienced eye saw the raw power there, the rippling muscles and thick frame that suggested potentially   
  
superhuman strength.  
  
_It's like Jean-Paul all over again, _he thought.  
  
Bruce felt a flash of nervousness then, and for a second he wondered what would happen if he failed—if   
he were killed tonight. The titan before him certainly looked capable of such a thing, and Tim's current state   
  
supported that argument. He took a slow, meditative breath, letting some of the tension bleed from his   
  
muscles, and the cold, calculating mind of the Bat consumed him once again. It was defensive; he had   
  
always done this to deal with the greatest stresses of his life. Batman could deal with it; he could handle the   
  
pain of loss, and the dangers of his nightly excursions into Gotham's streets. Then the large Gargoyle   
  
attacked, and the Batman responded in kind.  
  
Batman vaulted out of the way as Goliath lunged forward, avoiding the deadly claws. His hand found a   
  
set of three bat-shaped shuriken in a pouch on his belt, and he twisted in midair, hurling them in a   
  
backhanded throw at his adversary. His aim was true, and the weapons stuck fast in Goliath's left arm,   
  
distributing along the length of the limb from shoulder to wrist. He bellowed in pain, as the paralyzing toxins   
  
in the tips of the edged metal discs were released into his muscles. Frothing in rage now, Goliath shook his   
  
head clear of the pain, and went after the Batman again. The large Gargoyle swung at him, but his movements   
were not random or reckless, but the instinctively deadly swipes of a sea seasoned warrior. Batman realized   
  
this, and even as he fought, dodging and blocking, he was intrigued by the practiced ferocity of the creature   
  
before him. His lapse into thought did not slow his reactions, but a moment later he was forced to return his   
  
full attention to the task at hand, as Goliath's attacks increased in speed and ferocity. The Gargoyle fought   
  
with a combination of fist and claw swipes, slashing and punching viciously at his enemy's head and torso.   
  
Batman, by contrast, was a martial artist in the purest sense of the word, combining blinding speed and   
  
agility with tremendous strength and power in his fighting. The two combatants moved with dazzling speed,   
  
locked in their deadly dance. Goliath managed to keep Batman on the defensive, following up each of his   
  
attacks with a quickness and accuracy that made up for the otherwise brawling nature of his fighting style.  
  
So it went. Batman kept just out of reach of Goliath's claws, searching for a way to finish the fight. In the   
end, he realized, it would come down to a test of endurance. One of the two combatants would begin to slow,   
and it would be the opening that the other needed to finish him. The thoughts that he had experienced upon   
  
first facing the Gargoyle surfaced again.  
  
_What would happen if he killed me? _  
  
He knew what would happen, though. Dick would hunt down his killer, and he would fight him, too. He   
  
wondered if Nightwing might be able to beat Goliath. While not quite as experienced in the martial arts   
  
(though very nearly as good), he was quicker than Bruce was, more agile and flexible. In his mind, the   
  
Batman made a decision. He would not allow Dick to risk the fate that had befallen Jason. He could not allow   
  
it. Death was always a possibility for any of them, from any foe, but it was Batman faced Goliath now. Not   
  
Nightwing, not Robin. He would win.  
  
And he fought on. Minutes later, Goliath and Batman paused momentarily, each fighter catching his   
  
breath. Goliath could feel the paralyzing serum going to work on his left arm, although it still functioned at   
  
that point. Bruce, meanwhile, felt as if his muscles were going to rip free from the feeble constraints of the   
  
tendons that held them to his bones. He ached everywhere, and his sweat ran in rivers beneath his form-  
  
fitting bodysuit, escaping only through the small, exposed area around his mouth. He could taste it, taste his   
  
own sweat as it mingled with the blood from his now-crooked nose and the tongue that had been caught   
  
between his teeth as he took Goliath's most recent blow. To the east, the sky began to lighten, heralding the   
  
dawn despite the raging storm that kept the city dark as midnight. The storm itself was starting to ease in   
  
intensity, allowing some of the wan pre-dawn light to filter through. As Batman prepared to attack once   
  
again, he heard a voice. It was a woman's voice, and one that he recognized. "Goliath," the voice shouted   
  
over the wind. Elisa climbed up to the top of the fire escape, and onto the roof. Goliath looked at her, totally   
  
confused, but he did not snarl, nor did he assume an attack position. Rather, he straightened, softening his   
  
expression. He still glanced at the Batman suspiciously every few seconds, but the fight was over. Elisa   
  
walked slowly to him, talking softly the whole way. As she reached him, finally, the first rays of morning   
  
crept over the docks, and transformed Goliath instantly from his harried, beleaguered flesh to cold, unfeeling   
  
stone, for yet another day under the sun. The badly shaken Batman looked at Elisa in the wan light of early   
  
dawn in disbelief and respect. She was in better condition than when he had found her, true, but she still   
  
looked very worn out and beaten from her ordeal. They stood there, just looking at each other past the stone   
form of Goliath, as the rain reduced to a steady pattering and the sun rose over the city.


End file.
